


Bullet

by crisantemu



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Dark, Dark Datastormshipping, Fujiki Yuusaku is Not a Virgin, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Murder, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Unhealthy Relationships, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisantemu/pseuds/crisantemu
Summary: "You don't know what happened to that kid you raised,what happened to the father who swore he would stay?"Under the lamp's light, Ryoken's shaky fingers hold the pen close to the piece of paper, the inked tip barely touching it. His heart is still pounding, echoing loudly in his ears, the constant beats somewhat of an alarm to keep his mind sane. He pants, a tentative smirk forming on his lips as he finally brings the pen down to write the first sentence of his letter.'I choked him to death.'





	Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings and keep in mind this isn't your typical average datastorm fic. These two are truly messed up and when you join them together, a tragedy will happen.  
> This fic is mostly a vent, on a convo with my friend we talked about how datastorm seems to follow this "patern" of angst, fluff, happy couple, more angst, happy ending... when it is not just that? So I went down and tried to explore more of this ship's darker side :'))
> 
> YEAH THIS IS PRETTY DARK
> 
> (Also I got inspiration from the song Bullet from Hollyhood Undead, ence the title ehydb)  
> If you're fine to go, then I hope you enjoy!

Under the lamp’s light, Ryoken's shaky fingers hold the pen close to the piece of paper, the inked tip barely touching it. His heart is still pounding, echoing loudly in his ears, the constant beats somewhat of an alarm to keep his mind sane. He pants, a tentative smirk forming on his lips as he finally brings the pen down to write the first sentence of his letter.

  
_'I choked him to death._

_His frail, little body under mine, squirming and trashing. He wanted to scream, at me? Ar anyone else to save him? I don't know, because his voice never got out. I made sure of it._

_He didn’t die a virgin though.’_

 

* * *

 

Ryoken pushes the door open with too much force than necessary. He’s angry and the sight of Yusaku standing by the window,  _alone,_ in _his own house_ makes his eyebrows knit until there's wrinkles on his forehead and his blood boil even more.

“You could’ve knocked.” Yusaku says in that soft passive tone of his, as if he’s always the voice of reason, showing superiority in _everything_ ; duels and discussions.

“This is _my_ house. I don't think I need to knock.” His response is as equally soft, even when there's a storm inside of him. “You, however, didn’t do that when you invaded my home and stayed here like it's yours.”

“That is dif--”

_“Parasite.”_

Yusaku stares at him wide-eyed, not even Revolver could carry that much poison in his voice. It even surprised Ryoken, for a slip second.

“You have a lot of _nerve_ to come here again.”

“I wanted to speak with yo--”

“About _what_!? I think everything was already said, last time you came here during my father’s passing.”

“Not everything… I want a truce, I want to save you, _Ryoken_.” Well that explains why he's alone and-Ah. There it is. The same tone and expression, and that same goddamn speech.

Ryoken places his fingers against his temples, feeling them pulse with bottled fury. “I don’t _need_ to be saved, _Playmaker._ Because I _can’t_ be saved!” The last sentence came off more louder than he expected, but still, that didn’t seem to stop Yusaku.

He approaches him, tentatively, _slowly_ as if he was some kind of stray animal that could either flee at any moment.

And Ryoken could, he could always turn away and get back to his yacht. But he doesn't this time, he already reunited all of his lieutenants. So when Ryoken sinks down, they will too, alongside their sins.

“Back then,” Yusaku starts, now in front of him. He’s even more shorter than Ryoken remembered. “you told me to think of three things. Three reasons to live. Three reasons to get back home.”

Why? Why must Yusaku _always_ remind him of that time!?

“One: to see my parents again and tell them I was sorry for yelling and running away that day.” Oh. So that’s the reason why he found Yusaku alone in the streets that day. _The perfect opportunity_ , his father had whispered on his ear. “Two: to taste that chocolate cake I never had the chance to buy. I was just… so, so _hungry_ , I could even eat mom’s veggies...haha…”

Yusaku babbles uncharastically, hugging himself as he remembers the traumatic experience.

_‘Stop. Please just stop.’_

“And t-three: to save the person that has saved me. _You_ . And still, up to this day I haven't accomplished _any_ of those reasons.”

Ryoken stares as Yusaku crumbles right in front of him, his stoic demeanor breaking to show the real scaredy kid he is inside. It all just makes Ryoken feel even _worse. ‘I made you this way…’_

“My parents were gone, or that's what they told me. They abandoned me, I know, I was no longer _their_ son. I got put in an orphanage and-- God! It was _horrible_ in there! No one cared about the problematic kid that never smiled or took part in activities along the other kids. I was _excluded_ and _bullied_ ; I just wanted to get out of that hell as soon as possible!”

He’s crying now, and Ryoken can see the way his knuckles turn white and his fingers are buried into the tissue of his school blazer, curling down and trying to look as small as possible.

“But how could a _child_ like me survive on its own!? I-I had no other choice… to live that horrible place, I… s-sold my own body to earn money.” Yusaku’s expression is one of regret, Ryoken’s is one of disgust. “B-But I made it out…! Because I still had you!”

Ryoken’s expression sinks down into further disgust.

“ _You_ are the reason that kept me going! Because you sav--”

“I already told you I _regret saving you_ !!” Ryoken finally snaps. “Stop! Just _stop!_ I am _not_ a good person, _ok!?_ Back then, I was _eight_ , I had no fucking idea of the consequences my decision would cause!”

Yusaku shakes his head, and… was that _pity_ on his eyes? He’s sympathising with _him!?_ Ryoken's vision turns red and on a sudden impulse, he closes the gap between himself into the younger male. His hands clench around Yusaku’s shoulders and Ryoken shakes him violently as he shouts.

“ _Stop_ viewing me as this fucking _hero!!_ Time may have stopped for _you_ but it kept going for me! I’m no longer that eight-year old! I am no boy, I am a _man_ ! And most of all, I am a _criminal_!!!”

Ryoken feels himself being yanked by the shirt and then pushed back, making his hands leave Yusaku. He pants heavily, hands already raised on instinct, his heated mind discarding all reasonable thoughts and being moved only by raw emotion.

And right now he feels anger. Not just anger; pure _wrath_ , because _somehow_ only this particular boy drives him insane.

“Ryoken!” Yusaku shouts his real name, grabbing said man by the wrists. “ _Please…_ ”

That word. That simple word, spoken in such a tiny voice, made something snap on Ryoken's mind ( _“Who is it...? Are you locked in here too?”_ ).

Ryoken immediately jerks his wrists out of Yusaku’s hold, pushing himself away from the boy. He applies two digits onto his temples again, shakingly breathing and trying to retain his cool.

“Why don’t you accept me?” Again, that tiny voice. Ryoken doesn't move a single muscle when Yusaku approaches him again. A hesitant hand touches his forearm, the feeling is cold, soft and it itches Ryoken's skin. “I-I can make you feel _good_ …”

Ryoken watches, eyes unreadable as Yusaku slowly lowers himself onto his knees.

“I can make you feel good.” He shakingly repeats, hands fuming with the zipper of Ryoken’s pants. “So please… don’t _abandon_ me. Please, please, please--”

His pleas gradually became whispers, until they become completely incomprehensible the moment he puts Ryoken's soft cock into his mouth.

Ryoken's hand is now covering his whole face in mortification. _‘Why you do this to me?’_

_“Itsh fine. You can hull mah hair. You can use me ahs mach you deshire. You can cum inshide me. I’ll let you do anyhing, so please--”_

Ryoken then yells, grabbing Yusaku by the hair and thrusting his hips into his open mouth.

He hates it! Hates the way Yusaku just closes his eyes and lets him do as he wishes. Hates the way Yusaku completely gives himself up, how he opens his throat to his hard member. And-- God...most of all, he _despises_ how much his body is enjoying it! From the way Yusaku’s mouth deliciously squeezed him to the look of _pure affection_ shining into those green orbs.

_‘Why you do this to me, Yusaku Fujiki!?’_

He mentally curses. Yusaku’s cheeks hollow as he sucks around his length and his tongue makes quick work out of it, he seems to have a bit of trouble doing it through. Ryoken can't help but smirk, he’s bigger than what Yusaku’s used to take apparently. His hips keep thrusting into the heat and Yusaku’s hands grab him by the hips, nails sinking there in warning. Slower, he says through his pleading puffy eyes.

Gross, his tears and snot are all over his face.

 

* * *

 

_‘In a way, I did pity him._

_Still he was annoying to say the least, like a damn parasite, he just wouldn't let me go. Clinging to his false belief, thinking I was still the same dumb child that sold his own father out._

_Deep down, Yusaku Fujiki is still a child, with the same fragile mind of a six-year old, frozen in time, forcefully hardened by trauma._

_What a pathetic existence.’_

 

* * *

 

Ryoken presses his forehead against Yusaku's, too soft, too sad for the need he feels in his stomach -- it's a monster eating him up. Yusaku lifts his hands, grabbing Ryoken by each side of his face and kisses him wholly.

Mouth open, tongue sliding in, licking and sucking at his bottom lip. Yusaku moans, every sound out of his mouth makes Ryoken ache and kiss back so hard he tastes the metallic taste, _feels_ it pour down from their joined mouths, down Yusaku’s chin along with all the cum and snot and tears.

Gross.

 _“Ryoken.”_ He moans into the kiss, his hands caressing Ryoken's face so _lovingly_. He’s probably stuck on his own fantasy, where they are a pretty functional and happy couple. Where the sex is gentle and sweet and the kisses don't taste of salt and blood.

Ryoken fucks him roughly, thrusting deeper into him with every low whine Yusaku makes. He had his ankles on his shoulders, the backs of his thighs against his stomach, his skin sticking to his. Yusaku’s hands leave his face and rest at his shoulders, gripping and digging crescents into exposed tan skin.

“ _Ryoken_ ,” Yusaku repeats, more needy, more urgent. “ _Please._ Let me cum.”

“Then cum.”

And Yusaku does. He’s beautiful like this, Ryoken realizes, all wrecked and dirty. His pretty green eyes, once the most beautiful jades Ryoken has laid his eyes on, now an empty void.

 _“Ryoken, Ryoken, Ryoken,…”_ Yusaku keeps chanting like a prayer. _“I love you.”_

Ryoken’s hands tremble, fingers curling around the lean column of pale flesh. His knuckles are red and bruising from when he punched the ground, just a few centimeters away from Yusaku’s face. His heart heaves as Yusaku continues babbling.

“Was I… able to save you…?”

And Ryoken squeezes.

 

* * *

 

_‘Even a monster can be loved apparently._

_I had a good life. Better than what I deserved._

_I started this letter precisely like this so you couldn’t forgive me._

_I don't deserve it._

_I’m not a good person._

_I will not make the same mistake ever again.’_

 

* * *

 

“Once the Tower of Hanoi is completed, we will all die along with the Ignises.”

“Yes.”

He frowns. “There’s really no other choice.”

“I’m sorry, Ryoken.” Revolver jolts at the mention of his real name. His father’s tone is soft, something he hadn’t heard since he was a very small child, back in the days his father was still _there._ “You were always a good son to me, and this is how I repay you.”

By killing his own children, as Dr. Kogami once putted out.

“Can Spectre at least stay?”

His father frowns.“Why?”

“Because he's a victim. If possible, I want to keep all the victims out of this. They already suffered enough from this Project.”

His father was like a mountain, and Revolver’s words were like the wind. No matter how much they blew, Kogami didn’t move in the slightest.

“That’ll be his decision.”

At that time, Ryoken didn’t knew he was a victim too. Even when Faust, Vyra and Genome looked down at him with the same sad and regretful expression they gave Spectre.

So they tried to take matters on their hands themselves to spare them. And ultimately failed...

 

* * *

 

_‘You know, I really thought about this thoroughly._

_A gun was my first thought, to live by my motto, but that would be too messy._

_Dr. Taki gave me some prescriptions, but pills wouldn't be effective enough._

_I could die the same way Yusaku Fujiki did, like some sort of poetic justice or karma._

_But in the end, the choice was pretty easy.’_

 

* * *

 

Like any other children, Ryoken had a dream.

“See Ryoken,” his father’s hand was on his shoulder, the other pointing at the vast sea of stars. “Once in a few months, the sky touches the earth and the stars will swim in the cold dark waters and dance amongst the people. This is called Stardust Road.”

Ryoken had been mesmerized by it. So much that when the phenomenon was over, he extended his arms, staring at the night sky.

His dream was to fly and meet the stars.

 

* * *

 

Ryoken puts the pen down. He turns off the light and neatly folds the paper, leaving it there on the small desk.

In front of him, on his father’s bed, Yusaku lays down with his hands over his chest, his face looks so serene and delicate now that Ryoken has cleaned all the fluids. If Ryoken looked down at his trembling hands, he would be able to tell they would perfectly match the ugly purples of Yusaku’s neck.

Ryoken gets up, waking up the stairs. He already called the cops and according to his calculations, they would arrive in twenty minutes. He must hurry.

Once he reaches the roof of his penthouse, he walkes to the edge, where a vast sea of stars greets his eyes and Ryoken can't help but laugh at the cheer _irony_. Destiny loves to play with him, it seems.

As if something inside of him snapped completely, Ryoken’s little dark dark chuckle turns into full out hysterical laughter and he opens his arms, throwing his head back at the night sky.

“I’m free now!!” He shouts at the skies like a madman. “I broke the chains! I’m no longer a prisoner of destiny!!”

He never actually stopped to stare at the sky. It was so pretty. With its tones of dark blue and pink aurora borealis.

Since he was a child, Ryoken wished he could fly, way up in the sky. Like a bird, so high.

Oh, he might just try...


End file.
